


Best served cold

by ShyAudacity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek to the Rescue, Fluff, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Stiles, Minor Violence, POV Stiles, Revenge, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm never going to see my dad again, am I?" I asked stupidly. </p><p>The man laughed. "Don't be so lugubrious. You'll see your dad again... except only one of you will be breathing. I plan to leave your body at his doorstep." </p><p>OR</p><p>Stiles gets kidnapped as a means of revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best served cold

**Author's Note:**

> I used part of this for an english assignment, so I thought that I could also use it for a little angst drabble. Enjoy!

"If you stop resisting it won't hurt as much," the voice said. I didn't have time to respond before the rough leather flayed across my bare back once again. Two days, two incredibly interminable days this guy had been at this and he still won't tell me why he's torturing me. The whipping stops for a moment, I breathe a sigh of relief and I sag against the chair. Just as I think it's over, something presses against the back of my head. It feels cool and round.

"You think a gun is going to scare me?" I bite out. I try to turn to look at my captor, but I'm sitting backwards in a chair, the muscles in my back are to damaged and pain stricken to be helpful. It's no use. 

"No, I think it's going to kill you." He says.

"I'm the Sheriff's son, that won't make you very popular around town."

"Oh believe me I'm not doing this to impress anyone. This is revenge." He removes the gun and crosses in front of my line of vision.

"Revenge for what?" 

"You see, my daughter went missing last year, but the Sheriff wouldn't do anything until she'd been gone 48 hours. By the time they found her, she was long dead. She was about your age, so I want the Sheriff to know how it feels to lose a child."

"I'm never going to see my dad again, am I?" I asked stupidly. 

The man laughed. "Don't be so lugubrious. You'll see your dad again... except only one of you will be breathing. I plan to leave your body at his doorstep." 

"That's a little pretentious isn't it? Leaving a dead body on someone's doorstep?"

"Maybe, but it'll be worth it." He stepped forward, gun aimed at my mouth. "Any last words, kid?"

"Go to hell."

"Impressive vernacular you got there, let's see how well you talk with a bullet for a tongue." A moment later I'm choking against the head of the gun that had been forced into my mouth, I whine around it as the strange man gets closer to my face. He flashes a wicked grin. "Don't worry kid, I'll take good care of your dad."

Before he can even move his finger to the trigger, the floor above us creaks. As if someone, or something was was walking around upstairs. The man looks up, then looks back at me. He pulls the gun out of my mouth then stalks off to go inspect the sound. I can hear him walking up the stairs. There's a commotion, yelling, then the unmistakeable sound of a gun going off. The thump of a body hitting the floor is quick to follow. My heart races as somebody pounds down the stairs at a quick pace. I drop my head to my chest. 

_This is it. This is how I'm going to die._

"Stiles?" A familiar voice says. 

I whip around before I can remind myself how much it'll hurt. My dad is standing in the doorway, gun in hand. 

"Dad?" I whimpered. He lunges for me, and hugs me, the metal chair still between us.

"C'mon kiddo, an ambulance is on it's way."

"What about the body?"

"Derek's taking care of it." Slowly, he pulled me up by my forearms until I was standing on weak legs. He places his jacket on my shoulders, and I wince in pain from the feeling of the open wounds against the material. Dad puts an arm around my waist, and leads me upstairs. As soon as we reach daylight, I'm surrounded by paramedics and police officers and a hundred questions all at once. I can only lean into my father as my legs give out. Someone catches me and let's me down slowly. I'm staring up at the sky, crying because I'm no longer stuck in that dingy basement. I'm free and I'm crying. 

"It's okay, Stiles," Somebody says. "It's okay, i'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

                                                                                                                       ******************************************* 

I come to much later in a hospital. I know, because I heard a constant beep in my sleep and it woke me up. I can't feel the pain in my back, so I know that I must be on a lot of drugs. At least they gave me the good stuff. I groan when I see the bright lights and close my eyes again. I feel the weight of something in my hand, another hand I presume. I squeeze it as hard as i can muster with how tired I feel. 

"Stiles? Can you hear me?"

I groan again. Slowly I open my eyes. Derek is standing over me, holding my right hand.

"Derek." I croak.

"Hey, hey it's me. I'm right here, Stiles." He says, running a gentle hand across my forehead. "I'm right here."  

 "Don't go."

"I wouldn't dream of it. "


End file.
